Beautiful
by Kountry Roads
Summary: Booth and Brennan rent an old farmhouse to drink wine, have sex, and get away from it all - only to discover that the old house holds a mysterious tale deeper and more overpowering than they've ever experienced before.
1. Chapter I , Part I

**This story is partially fanfiction, partially an ode to a very special place. This is different from almost everything else I've ever written, as I do not write M rated content or incredibly descriptive passages that are parts of a story and not just one sole paragraph.**

**I like it. I sincerely hope you do too.**

* * *

_The land here is uneven, undecided: sloped and jagged as if it hadn't had enough time to form properly. Forests give away to cleared fields; the pastures littered with rocks, divided by brooks, and filled with blooming flora. Buttercups shoot up from the packed ground, brilliant yellow so bright it burns the back of eyelids. Wild roses twist up through the shrubs, thorns glistening with the morning dew. Ferns cover the forest floor like a rug, soft to the touch and as green as a shiny jade stone._

_Some may call the rough view ugly and displaced, insulting generations of farmers whose bloody hands and weathered faces reflect the land that has shaped them. The asymmetrical landscape has a personality, as if someone had ripped up flawless green meadows to reveal what lies underneath, as if it represented a soul, bare but exposed to grow as it pleased._

* * *

A square white house rested above a nearby pasture, a curious scene to look at. It stood on a few acres of well-kept land, but no cars filled the drive. Old lace curtains sheltered the interior from unwanted eyes.

The inside was simple. It had an old, musty feel to it, and the most modern thing about it remained the sole digital clock resting on top of the fridge. Nothing moved – nothing _had_ moved for a very long time.

The stillness of the property was suddenly altered as a black nondescript SUV climbed up the short gravel drive and pulled to a stop near a small cluster of trees. A cardinal watched the couple as they got out of the vehicle from atop the old rusted gate, whistling its distinctive _purdy purdy purdy_ call.

Brennan was now poised near the back of the SUV, staring up at the ancient farmhouse. Booth joined her, a pleased grin on his face.

"What do you think?" He asked his partner, stealing a sideways glance at her.

She put her hand up to block the sun, keenly observing their home for the weekend. "I like it." She finally stated.

"Me, too." He replied casually, slipping an arm around her waist. Brennan leaned into him.

"C'mon, let's get settled in." He eventually said, opening the trunk. Brennan let him unload, taking the key and opening the door with a gentle push.

The smell of flour and cut hay immediately hit her. She continued through the cluttered porch and into the kitchen, setting her purse on the table.

The kitchen was old, undoubtedly. A dining room table took up the right hand side, the seats having a pattern that reminded her of harvest leaves. Beside it was an old firewood stove. On the opposite wall was a cluster of outdated appliances: a fridge, an oven and stove, and a microwave. An old-fashioned kettle and teapot remained on the stovetop. The third wall held the sink and cupboards as well as a small window facing the cluster of trees and at the present moment, Booth.

Brennan made a circle around the kitchen, touching everything with a light brush of her fingers. In the same mesmerized state she moved on into the living room, adorned with one rusty colored couch and chair that led to a small bedroom and bathroom and back to the kitchen. Back through the living room and she headed up the creaky wooden staircase, arriving at three bedrooms, each filled with multiple beds.

She joined Booth back downstairs in the kitchen. He took one look at her face.

"Are you alright? You don't like it?"

She shook her head and sank into a chair, her face regaining colour. "No, I love it." She paused. "I've just never been anywhere quite like it before."

Booth nodded and kneeled beside her. "I feel it too. It reminds me of somewhere I used to know."

He straightened and offered a hand. "Let's go explore."

* * *

There was a slight breeze and the sky had clouded over, but it was still a nice day in June. The two had explored the property and then decided to go a little further.

Booth landed easily on the other side of the rusty unused gate and watched as Brennan gracefully executed the same. He was briefly caught up in her agility before Brennan's perky green eyes met his. He smiled back and stepped over the electric fence.

"Isn't this trespassing?" She asked as she followed him up what seemed to be an overgrown path.

He shrugged. "No one's going to find us."

"But still, we shouldn't be here?" Excitement edged her voice. He gave her a winning smile.

"I guess not, no."

They climbed up and arrived at what seemed to be a road at some point. They walked alongside each other silently, listening to the surrounding woods as they went. It was calming, and soothing. They passed by a well and wood piles as well as many small creeks.

The road opened up to a small vista. The golden afternoon sun had pierced through the layers of clouds bathed the field in a warm glow. The field sloped downwards, and cows of various tanned shades grazed below, no fence in between the beasts and where Booth and Brennan stood. Just behind the drove was a small cemetery, ancient white gravestones in contrast with the dark emerald of the pines behind. The land above the tree line seemed to go on forever - scattered farms, rivers, and roads.

Booth put his hands in his pocket and sighed blissfully. Brennan gazed out with soft eyes.

"It's so calming." She broke the silence. Booth didn't reply.

The cattle were now headed west in their field, disappearing out of sight. The couple headed down the incline slowly, having no urge to move quickly. From there they spotted their accommodations and made a full circle back.

They spent the rest of the day lazing around in the sun, eating the ripe raspberries from the nearby bushes and drinking wine. Soon enough the sun dipped below the horizon and the mosquitoes forced them inside.

A gentle breeze had started and chased away the humidity. They sat together in the kitchen, Brennan writing and Booth reading.

"Tomorrow we'll head into town." Booth said. Brennan stopped writing.

"Sounds good. I'd like to read up on the history."

"The town was settled by Irish immigrants in 1828." Booth said. She stared at him.

"I know a lot about it. I did my research." He explained. Brennan grinned before it turned into a yawn.

"I think I'm going to head up to bed." She said. "I'm exhausted."

"Same here." He nodded, getting up and offering a hand. She accepted and the two headed upstairs. They collapsed into bed, leaving the window open. Brennan's eyelids felt impossibly heavy as her head hit the pillow. She barely registered Booth's presence as he slipped into bed beside her. He looked down on her peaceful features and felt overpowering affection come from somewhere deep inside him. He leaned over and gave her a tender kiss on the forehead, watching the corners of her mouth curve into a smile in her slumber. Satisfied, he turned off the lamp and effortlessly fell asleep.


	2. Chapter I, Part II

_149 Years Earlier_

A pair of hard green eyes stared out from the carriage at the strange dark forest going past. It seemed to go on for eternity.

The sole passenger harrumphed and closed her eyes. Her head bounced as she dozed off.

A few minutes later and the carriage made an abrupt turn, waking her up. She peered out from where she was sitting, unable to see much. The horse slowed to a stop, and Ellen waited impatiently to descend.

Tilting her head against the sun, she reached for a familiar rough hand. Having the sweaty palm firmly grasped, she stepped down and out.

The sun was strong. She squinted distastefully and put up a hand to observe her surroundings, skeptically.

"It's not the prettiest piece of land I've seen." She criticized. Samuel balanced on the balls of his feet, gauging her reaction and staring proudly at the newly purchased property. "No, not yet, I guess."

Her eyes fell on the house. "It's quaint." Her voice was full of doubt.

"It's better than back home," He retorted. She inhaled sharply, nodding her head only slightly, the subject of back home being incredibly touchy at best.

His voice softened. "Aye, don't worry. We will make it our home yet."

She looked at him for the first time, eyes missing the defiance they had held ever since they'd arrived in the new world. "A home for the children."

"And for the grandchildren."

"And for all that come after."

They stared out over the small patch of cleared land, the forest deep and dark and unexplored sprawling out behind it.

"Aye, we'll make it beautiful yet." She whispered.

* * *

Samuel met her gaze from across the property, smiling apologetically. She narrowed her eyes in response before the visiting women's gossip pulled her back.

"The men are making good progress." Miss Henrietta Steele announced. The ladies looked over to where the men were working, sleeves rolled up and skin glistening with perspiration. One shouted and the others back away as another tree toppled. It took three to bring down one tree; many trios of hard-working gentlemen were in the surrounding forest, and others still were busy with the underbrush. They were making good progress; however, the work was slow. Meanwhile, their wives sat on the lawn, drinking tea.

Ellen plastered on a smile.

"It won't take them long to clear it," Miss Isabelle Little added.

"I hope not," Ellen replied. The women went back to their chatting, the likes of which Ellen could not care less about. She balanced her son on her knee, pretending to occupy herself with his needs.

Soon enough, however, the women began to fuss over him as well. Ellen had had enough and escaped into the house, leaving William with one of his older sisters.

She enjoyed it in there. The house was small and square: a kitchen to the left, a living room to the right, and a staircase dead ahead. Most definitely a tiny home, but a cozy one nonetheless. At the moment it was silent and comforting, enveloping her like a warm blanket on a cold night. It ended up being a nice fit for her and Samuel and their family. There she sat and took a few calming breaths.

At least the clearing would be done in a week's time and the townsfolk would soon fret over the next new arrivals, carrying on to them about how well they understood this strange new place, lying then as they were now to Ellen.

She would just wish the settling in with would be over with sooner.


	3. Chapter II, Part I

_***FLASH* Rating changed to M *FLASH***_

* * *

_For a moment, everything is bathed in red. The shade is luscious, a deep crimson so vibrant you must take a second look at everything that it has settled on. The farms on the west-facing hillsides are drenched in the fading light. The trees in the forest appear if they had been painted; the sunset is so vivid. The sun blazes a last fierce glow before disappearing behind the next hill._

_The reddened land gently turns to hues of purple and blue; the clouds overhead ranging from dark lavender to gold where the sun has stained the sky. The silos and buildings are silent; nothing moves in the dusk's first few moments._

_The sun's dying breath finally fades, and the heavens appear above. The moon is heavy as it steadily rises, turning from peach to silver. The hills darken underneath the stars, as the only light comes from the kitchen windows and the ghostly moon. _

_A never-ending cycle, hiding a few surprises, like the mist gathering on the fields, making the scene even more heavenly, even more surreal._

* * *

Brennan awoke first the next morning, keeping her eyes closed as the breeze floated in from the open window. She felt contented and well-rested, suspecting her deep sleep to be improved by the quality of the fresh country air.

She opened her eyes as she felt Booth stir beside her, smiling as he came to. He blinked a few times before returning the smile, stretching. Brennan leaned over and gave him a sloppy kiss on the lips.

"How'd you sleep?" She asked.

"Well." He closed his eyes and murmured. "You?"

"Very well. It's so calming to be here. No bones, no murder, nothing."

"We needed a vacation." He returned the kiss. Brennan didn't break away to reply, but instead ran her tongue against his bottom lip, demanding permission. He granted. She rolled over on top of him, straddling him, messy hair falling across his bare shoulders. She slid down and felt him harden even more, pushing her hips against his. He groaned and tugged off her shirt, planting his head in between her breasts. Brennan teased off his boxers and they briefly paused, staring at each other. Raw emotion was shared between them, fueling them both with intense desire.

Still staring at those steady brown eyes, Brennan lowered herself on him, breathing on his collarbone. Booth shivered and leaned his cheek on her hair; Brennan felt him flush further.

She lifted her head and gave him another kiss. "I wish we could just do this every morning." She whispered. He tore off her panties in reply.

The exchange was slow and lustful as the world heated up around them. Birds began to sing, and the sun began to strengthen.

Booth, almost unwillingly, pulled out of Brennan, causing her to gasp. They both lay in bed a little longer before putting on clothing and heading downstairs.

Booth made coffee as Brennan went on excitedly about the day.

"We could go for a drive this morning and then come back for lunch before swimming or doing something the locals suggest." She explained as Booth offered her a cup and sat down.

"Sounds like a plan," He kissed her, Brennan's eyes fluttering closed.

She sighed as they parted. "I wish every day could be like today."

He chuckled. "No you don't. You'd miss your bones."

"But the isolation, the privacy, just you and me…" She trailed off and he raised a suggestive eyebrow.

"Save it for later," she grinned, punching him lightly in the shoulder. He smirked in reply.

"We should get away more often."

"We should."

"And we should buy an old house."

"Slow down there, cowboy."

She rolled her eyes, taking a sip. "This house is old, and I like it."

"Built in 1854."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I told you, I did my research."

"It's seen a lot."

"We can only wonder."

Silence settled for a minute.

"Bones?"

"Yes?"

He let the question hang. "You feel it, don't you?"

She frowned. "Fell what?"

"The vibes from this place."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm serious! It has a nice feel to it, doesn't it? That's why you like it."

She hesitated. "I guess."

"Something happened here." He lowered his voice.

"Of course, lots of things have happened here. The house is a hundred-and-fifty-seven years old."

"No, something different. Something… bad."

Her frown reappeared. "How can you tell?"

"Among the good vibes, there's something…" He shrugged. "Off."

"Murder?" Her eyes flashed.

He shook his head. "I don't think so. Maybe bad isn't the right word."

She shrugged and finished her coffee. "Ready to go?"

He nodded, dropping the subject. "Yeah."

* * *

Booth sped along the paved roads and went nearly as fast down the dirt ones. They drove in silence, absorbing the scenic view outside. The mountains collided softly with each other; the creeks cutting like knives through forest and field. Cattle went on peacefully, and silver silos reached for the skies.

They explored the small nearby towns. Most were made up of a church and general store. Ancient houses clustered around, creating a quaint little town in the middle of nowhere. There was a certain element of satisfaction and joy of just riding about, carefree.

The humidity hit them as they stepped outside, back at the farmhouse. They'd picked up a few things for lunch.

Booth watched as Brennan pulled her hair up in a messy ponytail, sweating over the stove. He forced down his libido and got them both drinks.

"So, what should we do this afternoon?" He asked as they ate.

"Swim."

"I agree. It's bloody hot."

Brennan raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Booth didn't meet her gaze, slightly embarrassed.

"My grandmother used to say that when it was hot."

"Pops' wife?"

Booth nodded. "Nanny."

This touched Brennan and she smiled. Seeing that he was clearly emotional, she put a hand on his arm.

"This house reminds me of her." He admitted. Brennan felt a stab of pain but managed to hide it from her partner.

"Eat up." She encouraged. "The flies are driving me insane."

* * *

After they finished eating they headed up to change into bathing suits. However, this provided to be a difficult task, as they couldn't keep their hands off of each other. It started when Brennan asked Booth to tie her bikini halter. Ignoring the vast expanse of skin open to him provided too tough a challenge, and instead he ended up pressed against her, his arousal causing her breath to catch. She then leaned back and raised her arms behind his neck, allowing him to reach around and completely remove the bikini top.

The rest is history.

When they finally got out of the house they drove only a little and stopped the car on a bridge. They slid down the bank and onto the rocky shore of a creek. The freshwater was cold but refreshing; the area secluded and private, save for a horse that had wandered down for a drink, and the sun full of warmth.

Booth watched with one eye as Brennan spread out beside him, swatting at the pesky flies with one hand. She was on her back but turned her head to face him. He tried not to stare at the sight of the small water droplets glistening on her skin and fought the urge to lick them off. She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly. He did the same.

"No murder." She said.

"No FBI." He replied.

"Just us."

"It's like another world out here."

"I haven't had a vacation in seven years."

He opened his eyes. "Seven years? That's right before me. I mean, before us."

"Yes. I took it right after the very first case."

"Why?"

"No particular reason." She dropped the subject.

"What do you feel?"

"What do you mean?"

"Describe how you feel." He said simply.

"Um, alright. The sun feels good on my skin, seeing as it is wet, and overall I feel very satisfied and untroubled."

"I'll remember that."

"Why?"

"You'll see."

They lazed around the brook for another hour or so before packing up and heading home. Sitting on the porch and watching darkness fall, Booth brought it up again.

"What do you feel right now?""

She stole a sideways glance. "Contented and slightly tired. A cold wind is beginning. However, the house seems welcoming." She paused for a second, and Booth raised and encouraging eyebrow.

The still air suddenly shifted; the temperature plummeted. They stared at each other, both feeling the unexpected change. The house's spirit seemed to reach out into the dusk, becoming a part of the land, until both home and nature melded together into harmony. A calm feeling spread over the couple – they, who were always too busy saving the world to be in tune with it.

"There seems to be some element of disrupt. Some element of unfulfilled desire." She whispered.

They, who had never been this carefree before, who had never made love without some element of personal demons hanging over them, who had never made love in complete synchronization with the house and wilderness that engulfed them, like it did here, unlike anywhere else.

His eyes flashed suggestively. Brennan felt her own interest soar, unprecedented. Wide-eyed, she backed into the kitchen. He followed her hungrily.

"You feel it now?" He murmured.

She traced his collarbone. "Yes. I've… never… felt like this… what-"

He shushed her, pouncing on top of her, swiping away the plates and whatever remained on the table. Brennan struggled with his pants, feeling a familiar bump form underneath. In a mad frenzy they stripped themselves, ignoring but at the same conscious of every little thing around them.

"Temperance," He growled into her ear.

"Seeley," Came her breathy response as he filled her, a warm feeling that crept through her blood and into every cell of her body.

"What… Is this?"

"Unconditional love," He barely managed, and then was silenced with a kiss.

They were drained afterwards, and went through the motions of getting ready for bed in a trance. Night gripped onto the countryside with firm claws, everything utterly exhausted from the energy it takes to exist.


	4. Chapter II, Part II

_3 Months Later_

Ellen stepped up with intent to get into the buggy; however, her driver's hesitance annoyed her.

"Ma'am, it's going to storm," He warned pointing to the sky.

She barely glanced up. "We'll be fine."

He didn't seem convinced, but finally helped her up. They began their way into town, which was about a forty-five minute ride.

The driver muttered to himself, but it was drowned out by the horse's hooves. Ellen stared outside, watching the trees go past.

The road wasn't traveled on much, but Ellen preferred it. It eventually came up to a rise with a beautiful view.

They cleared the forest and came across an open field. This was Ellen's favorite part. The country stretched on for miles, the vantage point offering a bird's-eye-view. Ellen smiled at the sight, and then was jarred by the yell of the driver.

In the next second a torrential downpour hit the buggy, causing it to sway. The horse whinnied and shied.

Lightning flashed and the horse bolted. Ellen braced herself and looked out frantically, barely making out the sight of the horse and the driver through the weather. The man shouted - It was no use. The animal tore on, flanks heaving. Thunder rolled. The next few minutes were a blur.

Lightning flashed again and Ellen screamed, but it was lost in the sound of the explosion of thunder. A tree cracked and the horse shrieked - a terrible and terrifying sound. Ellen was thrown from the carriage, crashing into a tree and rolling. She lifted her hand to see the wounded beast try to jump the trunk of the new fallen tree, knowing the weight of the buggy would drag it down. It leaped, and for a second it appeared that it would clear it, before the hind wheels caught and sent the small carriage flipping down the steeply inclined slope.

Ellen screamed again as she watched the black blur disappear faster and faster, but it was like hearing yourself ad not being conscious it was yourself speaking. The rain soaked through her clothes and she began to shiver, eventually drifting out of consciousness.

* * *

She awoke sputtering, her whole body heaving. She sat up, aware of the sun on her face and hands on her back. She felt relief course through her, it had to be her driver. She turned to him, sobbing.

"Oh, John –" She stopped, frozen. A complete stranger stared back at her. She was caught up in his icy blue eyes for a second before scrambling away, hiccupping.

"Shh," He reached forward to stroke her hair, cementing her in place. She had no will to fight, and crawled back towards him, whimpering.

He took her in his arms. "It's all going to be okay. Help is coming."

She nodded weakly against his chest, feeling her eyelids droop as her body failed to keep away the blackness.

* * *

_A month later_

Ellen paused in front of the staircase, summoning her courage before going out into the cool evening.

It had been several weeks since the accident. John, the driver, had died, as well as the horse.

The strange man that had saved her had been allusive. She had developed a strange obsession with him – the man had saved her life, after all – but she'd barely seen him around. She'd spotted him once, in town, causing her heart to stop, but he didn't seem to recognize her.

Tonight, she and Samuel were hosting a barn dance. Taking a deep breath, she stepped outside. The moon was pale on her skin, illuminating the ugly dark bruises that covered her torso. Her dress was a light lavender color, and she seemed to glide towards the newly-built barn.

"Ellen!" Miss Hannah Henderson greeted. Ellen smiled back.

"How are you?" She asked.

Ellen swallowed. "Doing okay, thank you."

Miss Hannah Henderson nodded in understanding. "And congratulations, on both the barn and the baby." She grinned.

Feeling faint, Ellen nodded. "Thanks." AS her companion walked away, Ellen placed her hands on her belly. She jumped when a voice sounded beside her. She turned and gasped.

The man that had saved her, Robert McCammon, traced his eyes up and down her body before smiling. Flabbergasted, she stared back.

"You seem to be doing just fine," He commented with a lopsided grin. She continued to gape. His smile broadened and he offered an arm.

"Can I ask my lady to dance?"

Transfixed, she watched herself be led.

Heat pulsed from the small wooden structure. People from all around were about, socializing and dancing. A small vivacious band was playing in the corner.

Robert led her towards the small dance floor that had accumulated. The fiddler started a lively tune, and soon practically the whole barn was dancing.

Robert smiled at her and enticed her into swaying before he started to kick heels and get really into it. Ellen made a quick shoulder check to look for her husband. Samuel was in the opposite corner, joking drunkenly with some friends. He hadn't seen her, and no one seemed to be paying any attention to them.

With a mental shrug, Ellen grinned back and threw herself into the dancing. Despite being three months pregnant, the woman could move, and she knew it. Soon everyone was cheering her on, the fiddler and his troupe even trying to match her, but she was totally into the tune. The whole time Robert stood in front of her, clapping and laughing encouragement, just having a good time.

She was the last person to realize everyone's grin had faded and the jolly laughter had turned into screaming. She looked around, confused.

"Fire!" Someone shouted. Her eyes met Robert's, she watched his smile fade, the amber flames dancing in his blue eyes. The image burned into the back of her skull.

Directly following, she was whisked away from him. She struggled to find him in the panicked crowd, but people refused to let her go, forcing the pregnant woman outside.

The night was so much more frigid, chilling her to the spine. She couldn't look at the fire, even though everyone else was engrossed by it. All she could do was stumble along, smelling the burning wood; feeling the intense heat on her itchy skin, see the flames reflect off of listless faces.

She didn't see Robert, but relief flooded through her as she spotted Samuel. She rushed into his arms, tears burning the back of her eyes.

"Are you alright?" He asked, fear clear in his voice. She nodded against his chest. Refusing to look into the flames, she dug her face into his shirt, breathing in his scent.

"Is everyone out?" She whispered, like a child knowing they shouldn't get their hopes up but does anyway.

Samuel stared back helplessly.


	5. Chapter III, Part I

_Creeks are everywhere. Their soft, pleasant thunder a marvel to the ear; their smell even more crisp than a breath of fresh air. They twist and turn down hillsides, out in the open, off of a rocky cliff. They rush over pebbles that are smooth on the skin but constantly shifting underfoot. The water is clear and constant, running the same tired journey towards the distant sea, like us, blindly stumbling towards a common goal, the obstacles in between unexpected and varied. Like people, every creek is different, shaped by the path it chooses to take._

* * *

The following morning Booth woke up to the brightness of the morning. Still groggy, he reached over for Brennan, instead feeling the cold fabric of the sheets.

He found her downstairs, on the porch. She had on a white sweater, clutching a mug, staring out at the field in front of the house, the grass still wet with morning dew. He didn't move towards her right away, instead searching her face, despite his inconvenient angle, approaching slowly.

Brennan's eyes flickered to the glass, seeing the movement in the reflection. Booth paused, holding her gaze. She looked after a second and he came out to join her. She sighed as he wrapped his arms around her, leaning her face against his.

"Something happened here," She whispered, a quiet agreement. He didn't respond for a long time.

"Well, let's figure it out," He replied. "The world's best can surely crack this one."

She shrugged him off, turning to him slightly so that she partially faced him and partially the morning spreading outside before them.

"The world's best anthropologist," She said, barely enough for him to hear. "I'm only good with bones."

Booth stared at her. "That's not true, Brennan. Look at me."

"Look at me." He repeated. She complied after a moment. "That's not true. You're good with a pen, you're good with facts, you're good with calculations. You're good with me."

She stared up at him; him, staring down at her. Some light came back to her face. He smiled. "Good."

* * *

They spent the morning looking for clues around the house. It wasn't dull work – the day was having a beautiful beginning, making the work not only exciting but incredibly pleasurable as well.

Together, they went through every room in the house, absorbing all the information it was willing to give. By the end they had a whole new understanding of the life its inhabitants had led and a whole new respect for the property itself.

Just before lunch, they explored a bit more outside. They wandered through pasture and forest, sometimes feeling so fulfilled they forgot their purpose. The breakthrough came on an upper field, next to the well that served as the farmhouse's water source. The barely noticeable foundation of some building that Brennan had spotted.

Booth inspected it. "See, you're good for things other than bones."

She shook her head slightly, in a melancholic way. "Just the skeletons of things."

He looked up at her from across the field. "So be it, but remember that backbone of everything is found there."

That made her smile.

* * *

After lunch, they headed into town: population 200, basically one street, a corner store, a church and a very small school. It seemed like a tight knit community, a cluster of people surviving out in the middle of nowhere.

With a keen eye, Brennan pointed out certain things about the place. However, Booth gave her a good-hearted run for her money with the facts he knew.

"That church is one of the oldest buildings. People built churches first, of all practical things." She said.

Booth raised an eyebrow, pointing to a green and white building at the edge of town. "That's the oldest building. 1800, built as a hotel."

She stuck out her tongue in good nature. He grinned and parked.

For a little while they just wandered around the "downtown", enjoying the sights and sounds. They stopped to get some supplies.

"You guys just moved here?" The clerk asked; a friendly guy.

"Just staying here for a little," Booth replied.

"Where you at?"

Booth and Brennan shared a quick look.

"Just up Dublin Road," He said, nonchalantly.

The cashier looked up at them, a little too fast. "The Baxter place?"

Another shared look. "Yeah."

"Wow. I'm surprised they finally got renters."

Brennan narrowed her eyes. "Why?" She asked, all innocence.

The cashier shrugged eyes downcast. "They didn't tell you?"

"Tell us what?" Booth's voice was tinted with impatience. The cashier finally looked up.

"Well, it's sort of a town legend. Story has it that way back when, the lady of the house, Ellen Baxter, was going into town when a giant storm blew over. Her buggy crashed, killing the driver and the horse. A young bachelor named Robert McCammon came to the rescue. Several months later, the Baxters held a barn dance. Robert was in attendance, apparently doing what was considered inappropriate dancing with Ellen. The barn caught on fire, everyone survived – all, except Robert McCammon. Ellen fell into a stark depression."

Booth and Brennan took a moment to digest this.

"The topic's rather touchy," The clerk added, then smiled. "Have a nice day."

* * *

They drove back in silence.

"Such a tragic story," Brennan murmured, looking up at the house. "But such a nice place."

The rest of the day went by in a dreamlike state, the partners wanting to spend their last day here in untroubled bliss. They pushed away the disturbing news and the sadness of facing the fact they had to go home the following day, deciding to only contemplate it later.

It was a beautiful final evening. They watched the sunset from atop one of the higher hills and the, at home, started up the wood stove. It was a source of light as well as heat, as they had turned off all the other lights in the house. Fireflies flickered outside, and crickets hummed.

Brennan sat with her leg draped over Booth's lap; they were comfortable intertwined. For the longest time, neither spoke, simply enjoying the other's company, watching the flames.

"It's such a beautiful evening," Brennan whispered into his chest.

"A perfect evening," He corrected.

"Perfection isn't possible; therefore, tonight isn't a perfect evening."

"Look around you, Bones, and tell me that tonight isn't perfect again."

She was silent for a long time, and then craned her neck to give him a slow kiss.

"We have one evening left. Let's make the best of it." She whispered, gently taking off his shirt. Booth smiled and kissed her, unhooking her bra strap.

* * *

Much later, they lay back in bed, awake, staring up at the sloped ceiling above their heads. It was quite dark, as there was no moon that night, but both knew the other was awake.

"Booth?"

"Yes?"

She hesitated. "I always imagined my grandparents to have had a home like this. Of course, I never met them. But I had made them up in my mind, and sometimes, when it was really awful with my foster parents, I'd escape into my little fantasy, in a house like this, with my grandparents."

"Oh, Bones." He said softly, turning over to face her. He kissed her shoulder blade. Brennan crawled into his arms, letting him cradle her. Eventually, they both fell asleep; Brennan sprawled peacefully on his chest.


	6. Chapter III, Part II

Ellen heard the door open, but remained immobile, lying on her side. She could feel Samuel's gaze on her, taking a good hard look.

"You need to come out. Get some fresh air." His voice seemed distant and guarded.

She didn't reply.

He approached, pausing by her bedside before lying down beside her. Ellen shuddered as he curled around her, but still, she refused to look at him. For awhile they stayed there; her, fighting her misery, him, breathing in her scent.

"Come outside, Ellen." He persisted. "If not for me, for Robert."

She caught the hard tone and whipped around, eyes wide in surprise.

"You think I fancied Robert?!" She hissed quietly. Samuel was slightly taken aback.

Her jaw relaxed in astonishment; her mouth opened_. He actually thinks so._

"I'm not mourning, I'm guilt-stricken. I didn't fancy him! He saved my life, the least I could do was return the favor!" Her voice cracked.

It wasn't the whole truth. She did think that something might have happened, but he died before it could. She felt guilt for that, but she felt guilty for ever even fantasizing about doing something so foolish.

"Oh, Ellen." He said softly, letting her cry into his shoulder.

She sniffled, and Samuel looked at her with kind eyes. "It isn't your fault. There was nothing anyone could do. No one is to blame."

I don't believe you, her tear-laden eyes said. He hugged her.

"Come outside, darling. With me."

She felt another wave of depression coming, like she was bound to the spot and could only watch the blackness come towards her like a wave. Yet she nodded, and let herself be feebly led downstairs, into the harsh light.


	7. Chapter IV, Part I

_One way on a dirt road in the country, you're headed to hell. In the opposite direction, heaven. Going down a new one? Dangerous. Every other time following? Piece of cake._

_In one direction, you're headed for the city, for bright lights and human contact. Back to everyday, monotone life. Traveling the other way, and you're headed deeper into rural country, farther away from everything you're leaving behind._

_Dirt roads. Well-tread, worn down, incredibly scenic, secluded, and each a pain in the ass. Connecting points A to B._

* * *

Brennan reluctantly handed Booth a suitcase, desperately trying to memorize every detail of the place. Booth paused to watch her, sympathetic.

"We don't have to go." He said.

Brenan inhaled. "Yes, we do."

"We could call Cam; we have enough time saved to stay weeks longer." He wrapped his arms around her.

"I wish we could stay longer, too, Booth. But there are people out there who need us."

"People will never stop needing us." He argued. She turned sad eyes on him, kissing him softly.

"Exactly. That's our realities. It's been good to get away, but now we have to get back."

He nodded, giving in. "Ready?"

She closed her eyes, allowing the feel of the place to sink deep into her pores. She felt the wind on her skin, hearing the air sift through the forest behind her. Many birds called out, and a faint sound of running water could be heard. She smelled hay, newly cut, and the fishy smell of a nearby brook. She smiled, embracing the feeling, willing it into her memory.

"Bones?" His voice pulled her back. "Ready?"

"Yes." She replied happily. "Let's go home."


	8. Chapter IV, Part II

Ellen stared out from under the oak, eyes roaming across the property. Her _beautiful_ property. It filled her with pride. 64 acres of vast sweeping hills, one bright new barn, a head of a dozen cattle, and the one thing that never really changed – the tiny white farmhouse, standing tall and confidently. She smiled, nursing her week-old son.

After everything this house had gone through – heat, wind, snow, storms – it was still upright, and if it could stay standing, she figured she could, too.

* * *

_LA FIN_

* * *

**Thank you all!**


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